Page 203 of The Stolen Throne
“The deal was my mother would be released,” Eidolon snarls. “You lied or failed. I don’t care which.”
Is he going to kill the ghost inside my sister? It’ll kill her, too, and he’s just going to—
“What about our deal?” the ghost inside Tabra demands.
“That was before you tried to kill the only person in five hundred years born with enough power to do what we need.”
Eidolon makes that fist again to pull the spirit out of her the way he did with Reven, but this time his glow flickers, like he’s having trouble making it work. For a second, I think he won’t be able to, that he’s too drained. But then, like before with Reven, he drags the ghostly soul out of her in a long streamer until the last of it slithers out of her mouth. Face a mask of fury, Eidolon does something with both hands that looks like he’s breaking a stick, and the ghost of his past self shatters. Its howl cuts off as the pieces of him float away on the wind.
“Can’t have you dying before you’ve grown into your power,” Eidolon says to the rag doll that is my sister.
More darkness pours into her, but this time it’s coming from the night all around us. Before my very eyes, she transforms—her sallow skin taking on a pink hue, the bruises under her eyes disappearing, cheeks plumper. Is he… He’s healing the damage the ghost did?
I can’t help the relief that wells up inside me, even if resentment burns that the reason I’m feeling it is because of Eidolon. Tabra is going to live. That’s something.
But a new realization dawns on the heels of that one.
This is what a power looks like after you’ve had centuries to learn it and pass your knowledge onto the next in line. We’ll never defeat this bastard.
A white-blue glow illuminates the night in a brilliant flash, and Eidolon is blown through the air. My vision clears to find the king across the landing, on the stone stairs that lead into the palace, on his hands and knees, charred and smoking, the scents of burning air and flesh sharp in my nose.
I snap my gaze to Hakan, lightning dancing over his body in a bubble, scorching the grass under his feet and keeping everyone else away, hands raised to do it again.
I pick out Achlys’s face from the crowd. She’s running through the fighting, trying to get to Tabra. Over her shoulder, a Tropikan soldier comes at her with a spear in hand, deadly intent in his eyes.
Before I can open my mouth to yell at her, warn her, Tziah tackles him from the side. In a vicious series of rapid strikes, she sinks a wickedly carved knife into every soft spot not covered by armor that she can find. Kneeling over him like a predator over a kill, she wipes the blade on her blood-spattered clothes, and looks up. Not at Achlys but at me.
Which is when I see him.
Cain is right behind her, a gash across his forehead pouring blood into one eye. Our gazes clash across the field of fighting, and I realize what he’s doing.
He’s coming to help me.
Five soldiers come at Cain in unison. He spins to face them, but five are too many, even with his fighting skills.
A memory hits with such force I can see the colors, feel the sand, smell the crisp night air. A boy offering his hand and a smile to me as I lay against the base of a lone palm tree, lost in the desert.
My best friend, who has been my hero ever since.
Just as I think he’s going to go down, his father and Horus reach his side, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. With a deftness and speed that is an art, they engage.
They aren’t giving up. Neither will I.
A thundering blast of sound has the king jerking his gaze to the sky. Even in the dark, Bene’s massive form casts a shadow as he dives for the king, but Eidolon raises a hand, and a wall of darkness—more like a dome—comes over the four of us. Bene hits it with bone-staggering impact, but nothing happens. The dome doesn’t budge, blocking out not only Bene but everyone on the ground, too.
With a satisfied smile, Eidolon looks now to…me.
The Shadows controlling Reven drag me to Eidolon’s side, but I’m not focused on them. Instead, I’m focused on my own shadows and light. On my bond. On my mate. We are stronger together. I have to believe that.
Hoping with everything I am that I’m doing this right, I send my shadows—the part of me that is Reven—searching. Sneaking inside his being through our bond, like threading a needle. I reach out a hand in the darkness, waiting for him to take it.
“Not all is lost,” the Shadow controlling Reven says to his maker, voice a rumble in my ear.
The king huffs a bitter laugh. “Not even death has been able to stop us.” He lifts his gaze and looks over my head, right at Reven. At Shadow. “We’ll find another way.”
“After five hundred years?” I sneer, even as I’m trying to reach my mate. I tip my head and offer a sarcastically concerned look. “Aren’t you tired of that kind of failure?”
Eidolon’s expression sours, lip curling.
